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Quick shout out to my friend Amanda, who I send most of my stories to first. She always has some type of feedback for me and reminds me and encourages me to finish the stories. You are awesome.
“My name is Drave. I am a demon hunter. My profession has blessed me with nicknames like Grave or Raven depending on what part of the world I am in. I have done this a long time and have killed many demons, spirits, ghosts, and other things that hide in your closet during bedtime. Some of those things hold grudges, and just like you and me, they talk. They know who I am and I am slowly becoming the hunted. Least, that’s how it was heading, until tonight. Tonight I retire.
I always carry three revolvers with me. Eighteen shots. I’ve only ever needed more once. Tonight will be no different. A revolver in each holster and the third in the back of my jeans. All three guns and ammo have been blessed by a nun or monk. The one in back holds special bullets, silver bullets. The other twelve shots are just lead with crosses etched in them. Cheaper that way.
I am protected by my long coat, which is layered with steel slabs ringed together. My collared shirt also has a layer of steel chain, though most demons cut right through it. Trust me, I have the scars. But tonight that will change. Again, after tonight, I retire.
See over there just across the way? The moon’s glow and the sunset’s light will touch there, and a magical door will appear. A door no one should ever enter. But I will. It only happens when the moon is full on the 15th of February. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. Probably some long past reason. Doesn’t make it any less true and any less dangerous.
After tonight I retire from hunting, and I shall no longer be hunted. That is a time I look forward to. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, though, because I know you don’t care. You are like everyone else in the bar behind me, but I appreciate you listening… How old are you again?”
The little blonde boy shook his hair out of his eyes petting his brown puppy, “Seven.” He said smiling bringing up his fingers to match the word, “I’m Zane, this is Marcus, and you’re Drave the cowboy.” Zane said pointing at Drave’s hat lying next to them. The puppy rolled off his master and pounced into the dirt road. Zane squealed with joy and chased after him.
Drave looked at his black hiking boots, faded gray jeans, belt buckle, collared shirt, coat, and hat, “I suppose your right.” He said to himself, “Drave the cowboy, haven’t heard that one before.” He took a swig of his whiskey bottle he kept in his coat’s pocket. He donned on his hat and stood as Zane’s mother called out to the boy. Zane and his puppy Marcus ran toward the calling.
“You’re the reason I’ve done this for so long.”
Drave took another swig of his bottle, set it down on the steps of the bar. He stood and slowly walked toward the sunset.
